


Put A Little Love On Me

by treaddelicately



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Painter Theon Greyjoy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treaddelicately/pseuds/treaddelicately
Summary: Sansa and Theon spend a lazy afternoon together painting. Well, Theon's painting, and he's not using canvas.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 77





	Put A Little Love On Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dresupi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/gifts).



> All of this came from a photo on Pinterest that vaguely looked like Alfie Allen, shirtless and painting, and I thought, "huh. Painter Theon could be fun." Aaaaaaand then I made a moodboard.
> 
> Written for my wonderful friend Dresupi, who has been having a hell of a hard time lately, so I wanted to do something to make her smile. I hope this does the trick, Dres. Love youuu. <3
> 
> Thank you to amidtheflowers and BoudicaMuse for beta'ing this for me! You ladies are the best. <3
> 
>   
> 

“Seven hells, Sans, would you stay still?”

Sansa bit her lip, muffling the giggle threatening to spill out as the cold brush swirled over her skin again. “I can’t help it.”

Theon looked up at her, one eyebrow cocked in disbelief. “You’re not usually this ticklish.”

He ran the brush over the sensitive skin towards the back of her knee, painting a line of white around one of the peonies patterning her skin. Sansa jerked ever so slightly, the laughter spilling out of her this time.

“Normally, you’re tickling me with your hands,” she told him. She reached down to where his free hand was braced on her other thigh, trailing her fingers over his knuckles. “They don’t elicit quite the same reaction.”

“Not quite.” Theon smirked at her, sending flames licking up her spine.

It was ridiculous, honestly, how much those looks still affected her after this long. She’d known Theon since she was a girl. He had pulled her braids and teased her and called her _princess_ in that condescending tone for years. She’d watched other girls on the receiving end of that smirk and thought them foolish for swooning over Theon Greyjoy.

And okay, Sansa didn’t _swoon_ , but she understood it now. What it felt like to have all of his charms directed solely at her, all of his attention on nothing but her mouth and her skin and the limited space between them. It was intoxicating.

There was also the added layer of their tryst, that the space between them? It was only between them. No one was the wiser about how they’d been seeing each other for months. So many stolen evenings together when Theon was alone in his studio or when he met Sansa in her flat to watch her shape things out of clay. She rarely fell asleep alone anymore, but one of them was always dashing for the door before the daylight hours, rushing off to avoid any amount of suspicion.

Sansa leaned back on her hands, keeping her lower half as still as she could while she watched Theon’s brush move. He’d gone back for more paint and it was still cold, but it felt nice against her rapidly heating skin. The design stretched all the way from her ankle up to her thigh now, multicolored peonies bright against her pale skin.

It was almost silly to let him spend so much time on a design that she’d have to wash off before the morning, but it was beautiful.

Theon was beautiful too, all steady hands and bright, focused eyes. His hair had fallen over his brow and Sansa lifted her hand to brush it back for him. Her fingers trailed down the side of his face and she smiled when he turned his head to kiss her fingertips.

“Now stop it,” he admonished. “No distracting me during the final stretch.”

“I wasn’t distracting, I was trying to help,” Sansa said matter-of-factly.

He made a disbelieving noise and turned away to rinse his brush and change colors. Seeing her opening, Sansa sat up and curled her fingers in the hem of her t-shirt, pulling it off smoothly and tossing it aside.

“ _Now_ I’m trying to distract you.”

Theon’s gaze shot back to her, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he groaned.

“You couldn’t wait five more minutes? I’m almost finished.”

She smiled sweetly, shifting her weight back onto her hands and pushing her chest out a little.

It was one of their stolen lazy days, both using the excuse of work to avoid their small circle of friends and family, and she’d been laying around in Theon’s shirt and her panties for most of it. With the shirt gone, her breasts were proudly on display, and doing their job of diverting his attention. He was just so predictable.

“Then finish up.”

Theon growled. “You’re a cruel woman, Sansa Stark.”

She laughed at that, but it turned into a gasp when the paintbrush was back. Closer to her hip than before, forest green paint appearing in gorgeous swirls on her skin. He shifted closer, on his knees next to her now with his head leaned close to her stomach.

“If you get paint on my underwear, Greyjoy…” She tried to sound threatening but Theon huffed out a laugh. His hot breath ghosted across her skin and her thighs clenched together, trying to ease the ache from the sudden rush of lust.

He knew it, too, the smug prick. Sansa knew better than to toy with Theon. He was far better at these games than she could ever hope to be, but sometimes that made it worth it. All she had to do was flip one little switch and he never hesitated to make it worth her while.

“On second thought,” he said casually, “I don’t think I’m finished just yet.”

Sansa blinked. “Oh?”

Her entire thigh was covered now. Surely he didn’t mean he was going to paint her _other_ leg? Neither of them had enough patience for that, she knew that much.

“Well, you’ve just given me some fresh canvas.”

Slow and steady, Theon ran the brush up her stomach and between her breasts. Sansa sucked in a breath.

“Theon.”

He dipped the brush again and made another pass, lingering on her chest and making her nipples tighten. She was hot all over and the brush was still so cold. The worst part was that he wasn’t even looking at her face, just smirking to himself.

“You told me to finish up. I’m not finished yet.”

It was her turn to growl, but she nearly choked on it as the brush slid over her ribs. Any other time she might have been tickled by the motion, but her nerve endings were white hot and crackling. Every touch of the brush to her skin was like pulling on a rope connected to her core, the pleasurable tug making her tense and needy.

“Something wrong, Sans?” Theon lifted his head, clearly satisfied with himself.

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him. “Put the paintbrush away.”

He chuckled, low and husky, and oh, Gods, why did that make everything worse? Pressing her thighs together wasn’t helping any longer with the throbbing in her clit.

“We have to wait for this to dry.” He sat back on his heels, setting the paintbrush aside. His hand slid between her legs, thumb brushing over her thigh just outside the wet paint. “Wouldn’t want to ruin my handiwork, now, would we?”

Sansa couldn’t help it. Her hands braced on the floor behind her, she parted her legs and pushed her hips forward until the tip of his middle finger bumped against her cotton-covered mound.

“I never said anything about ruining your artwork.”

He took the blatantly obvious hint for what it was and twisted his wrist to cup her. Sansa’s eyes slid shut with a shuddering breath while he pushed the fabric aside and slid his fingers through her folds.

“I had no idea this would get you so hot,” Theon said, smug as ever even while pushing his middle finger into her pussy. “Or I would have suggested painting on you ages ago.”

Sansa didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. She just shifted her hips to get the right angle while he stroked her walls and soon enough he worked a second finger inside her, touching her with quick, grinding thrusts of his hand. Apparently she wasn’t the only one getting hot over this, though, because his breathing was coming in short pants just like hers.

His fingers crooked up and Sansa whined, squirming on the sheet he’d laid out. “Theon.”

Saying his name always did the trick. He’d give her anything if she moaned it just the right way, he’d told her so himself plenty of times. Sure enough, he groaned and twisted his fingers, and then his thumb was on her clit with the gentle pressure that she loved.

“Go on, go on,” he urged her. “Let me see you. You’re so gorgeous when you come.”

And she did, thighs shaking with his name on her lips again. He stroked her through it until she relaxed and opened her eyes.

“Feel better?”

The lazy, crooked quirk of his lips would have annoyed her infinitely more if she wasn’t still trembling with aftershocks of a fantastic orgasm.

“Bed,” Sansa replied in her bossiest tone. “Get on the bed.”

“And get paint all over my sheets?” Theon sounded almost offended.

“Like they’re clean anyway!” Sansa retorted.

He grumbled and got to his feet and for a moment, she thought he might actually listen to what she said without arguing or a witty retort for once. She focused on getting her knickers down her legs without ruining them in the paint and by the time she’d finished, Theon was kneeling next to her again. He brought two pillows, one for her head and one to go under her lower back, and shed his clothes and grabbed a condom while Sansa got herself comfortable.

“Can’t believe you won’t just take me to bed,” she muttered under her breath.

Theon chuckled as he knelt between her legs. He kissed her long and slow, his tongue dipping into her mouth, but not even that was enough to wash away her irritation. She didn’t even stop to admire his cock when he broke away to roll the condom on, which was a feat in and of itself.

“Are you going to complain the entire time?” he teased. He leaned over her, one hand braced by her head. “Because I can wait.”

“I’m fairly certain you _can’t_ , and even if you could, you wouldn’t da—”

Her threat was cut off when he flexed his hips and pushed into her, a loud moan taking its place.

“I wouldn’t?” Theon grinned. “Is that a challenge, Sansa?”

She wrapped her legs around his hips and dug her heels into his thighs, urging him forward to slide deeper into her. He stayed perfectly still, hovering over her with a playful look in his eyes.

“For the love of the gods, please,” Sansa begged. He felt so good inside her, filling her the way his fingers couldn’t quite match, but the friction was what she needed. “ _Theon_.”

As always, his name did the trick. He’d been carefully composed and teasing her before, but the way he slammed into her again and again told Sansa that Theon was just as keyed up as she was. In fact, he started to tense quicker than she anticipated and she dragged her nails down his back, encouraging him with little noises in his ear and quick nips to his shoulder.

Instead of coming, though, Theon rose up to his knees and pushed her legs further apart. Sansa gasped at the angle change and the intense pressure on her g-spot as his movements changed from rapid and sharp to slow, dragging thrusts.

“Sansa, love,” he gasped.

The steady pleasure that had been building in her gut ignited. Okay, maybe she had a thing about him saying her name, too. Sansa bit her lip and reached for him, but the angle was all wrong and Theon was too far away.

“Come here,” she pleaded. “I’m close.”

There was an order he didn’t have trouble following. Theon covered her body with his, his lips slanting over hers desperately. He ground into her with each deliberate thrust and Sansa knew he was trying to give her what she needed, but it wasn’t enough.

She buried one hand in his hair, their kisses turning sloppy as she worked her other hand between their bodies to find her clit. It messed up the rhythm but it didn’t matter because Theon never relented, filling her again and again while her fingers worked over her slick clit until she stiffened and spilled a wordless cry into his mouth.

Theon broke away from her lips and buried his face in her neck. He sped up and fucked her faster, finally coming with a muffled groan against her skin and his fingers digging into her hip.

They breathed together, Sansa stroking his spine until Theon shivered and lifted up to grin at her.

“I told you it was going to ruin all my hard work.”

She looked down at her leg, a mix of dry, beautiful flowers on her calf and then messy, smeared paint up her thigh. Some of it was on the pillow and some was on Theon’s skin, too. When he pulled out of her to take care of the condom, she saw the mess of color on his chest from the lines he’d drawn up her torso.

“Oh well.” Sansa rolled onto her side to watch him, a coy smile on her lips. “I suppose we could always go shower and give you another blank canvas to work with.”

They had all day, really. Every moment of this was theirs and theirs alone. They’d have to own up to her family and their friends eventually, but for now, Sansa was perfectly content with this little apartment and Theon’s paints and the way he crawled back over to kiss her until nothing else mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, don't forget to leave a kudos or a comment!
> 
> Also, please please please check out Dresupi's fic [All Rime, Some Reason](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851038/chapters/52148956#workskin). It's a fantastic Theonsa modern AU with contractor!Theon, which might be my favorite thing in the whole world. Show her some love! <3


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